Purple Lotus Spa

In my 20s, I spent a lot of time in college hitting up the massage parlours near our campus. Some of the guys from my football team and I would head there after the bar if we struck out with finding anyone to take home.

The parlours were great; hot Asian women in their late 20s to early 40s who would fuck and suck you for $80 all in - what's not to love?

Fast forward 12 years later, and the parlours were a thing of my past, but I often wondered if they'd planted a seed in my head as I found myself engaged to a 5'2", 100lb, natural 36C chested, Vietnamese smokeshow.

Kim and I met when I was in grad school. I was bartending on the side to pay my tuition and she was one of the cocktailers in the bar. As hot as she was, I was no slouch. I'd played WR on the varsity football team in college, and stood 6'2", with a lean 215lbs, and had been able to bed quite a few women outside of the parlour.

We'd bought a place a year ago, after having lived together for the last 9 years. And I can honestly say there wasn't any significant issues in our relationship aside from whose turn it was to take the dog out in the morning, or me leaving the kitchen sink full before bed. We had an active social life, and while Kim's Viet family and friends demanded a lot of our time, we always made time for my teammates from college and their wives as they were more our speed.

As much time as we had spent in the parlours - Shane, Mike, Chris and Garrett all ended up with non-Asian wives and girlfriends, and they never let me forget that fact. While they all managed to pull a lot of talent in college and afterward as well, Kim was objectively the hottest of all the wives and GFs and drew a lot of attention from my buddies.

Kim knew they ogled her whenever we would host a pool party or attend a gathering of some sort with them, but she ignored it, and so did I.

We were to marry in July that year, and in April, a few months before the wedding, we were on a group trip back to Florida for our annual college reunion. The five of us and our girls would get together for a weekend where we all initially met, along with some of our other classmates to catch up and blow off some steam.

We arrived on the Friday night and didn't waste anytime, getting ready quickly and heading out to dinner with everyone. During dinner Shane had mentioned our exploits in the massage parlours back in the day while we all reminisced. And while Kim knew I had partook in these nights of debauchery, she never truly knew to what extent, and it was back in our AirBnb that we were sharing with Shane, Mike and their GFs that she began to ask more questions while we enjoyed a nightcap with the group.

At this point, everyone was liquored up and Shane, usually the most quiet of our group, dished all of the details. Including sharing a story about one particular night when we gangbanged a parlour attendant in the hallway of the parlour on our last night before graduation.

Shane is black and from the South and while quiet, can be quite explicit when he speaks. And he withheld no details. While he talked, I watched Kim get flush. And while most would assume it was due to her alcohol, I knew that she was either getting turned on, or pissed off, and with the looks she was giving me, I settled on the latter. And though Shane was detailed, I found his description of the woman we bukkaked to be different than the way I recalled her. In fact, I was almost certain Shane had changed her description to portrait Kim more than anything else, including that the woman was Vietnamese and not Korean as I distinctly remember. But chalking it up to alcohol and the time that had passed, I concluded one of us was wrong and that it didn't matter ultimately.

Within the hour, we'd all gone back to our rooms and as soon as I shut our door, Kim was on me about my experience with that gangbang. She slammed into me about not having told her and accused me of being a degenerate for having taken part in such a thing. I let her hurl her insults and figured she'd exhaust herself with her assumptions which she eventually did. Once she calmed down, I reminded her that this was something that took place when I was 22, and that more than a decade had passed and everyone had a good time and it took place before I met her. I encouraged her to ask me any questions she had and that I'd answer them honestly.

She had many. She asked which of the guys were involved, she asked how it was initiated, she asked how long it lasted, she asked if we tipped the woman appropriately, she asked if we were worried about contracting disease.

I went on to summarize what had happened. That Mike, Shane, and Garrett had wanted to celebrate with one last hurrah that night and that Chris and I had gone back to the spa to fit in with the group. I told her that Shane had negotiated with the owner of the shop to allow us to pay a flat rate to spend 2 hours with the attendant, out in the open of the spa without being disturbed. I told her that the woman was a willing participant, and had always encouraged each of us to come and see her, as she said she preferred handsome athletes to the old perverts that normally would frequent her shop.

Before I could finish the story, and seemingly satisfied with everything I had shared, Kim ordered an Uber to our place. I didn't dare question her at this point, but when I got into the car, I saw the driver's screen and realized our destination was the spa. Kim wanted to see where all of this took place.

Upon arrival. We stood across the street facing a small strip mall. It has a broken asphalt parking lot, and several small shops that didn't look like they were operating anymore, and of course the massage parlour. It was lit up like a Christmas tree, and looked just as I remembered it did. "Purple Lotus Spa" written in neon lights, above an old door that looked like it'd been through several hurricane floods in its life.

We watched as a steady stream of men would park down the street, and make their way to the door of the spa, ringing the bell and keeping their head down, before heading in. I explained to Kim that each guy would go in, be led to a room, and pay the room fee and tips to the owner. The woman would then come into the room where the customer was likely showering, and help them get dried off, before giving them a quick, back massage, before starting to tease their cock from behind and encouraging them to turn over, at which point the services would ensue. Blowjobs, body slides, sex - it all depended on what the owner had been paid and then communicated to the woman by the customer.

Kim looked fascinated, if not excited by all of this. I couldn't tell if it was the booze in her that had her curious and worked up or if it was the seedy sexuality of it all but she looked like she wanted to go into the spa, and before I could ask her what she was thinking, she began walking across the street and toward the door.

I followed her, a few steps behind, unable to keep up with her pace due to the number of beers I'd had that night. I called out to her several times but she ignore me, telling me that she wanted to see what it looked like inside. As she got to the door, a customer was exiting, leaving the door open for her to go in. When I reached the door, it had shut, and as a result, I was locked out. I rang the bell waiting for someone to answer, but no one came. I rang the bell again, and there was silence. For five minutes, I stood outside the door, ringing the bell, waiting to be let inside, when finally, the door opened and a large Arab man let me in.

I made for the hallway, looking for Kim when the Arab man's hand grabbed my shoulder. He told me to wait while he cleared a room for me. As I began to explain why I was there, he told me to stop disrupting the other rooms as I was being too loud. He made his way down the hallway to clear a room for me. I called Kim and got her voicemail. I texted her, and got no read receipt.

Finally, the Arab began walking back down the hall toward me, at which point he ushered me to follow him. When we got into the room, I explained what had happened with Kim. He laughed, and explained that lots of guys think these girls are their girlfriends. When I tried to ask if he'd seen Kim just before I came in, he said he hadn't but that one of the other girl's had brought another girl into the spa and that they were in a room with a customer and he would not disturb the session.

My gut went into a knot. I felt like I'd been kicked in the balls. What was happening? He could see the look on my face, he asked if I had cash or card - when I told him card, he told me he could let me view the room through a secret peephole for $500. Although he didn't believe me, he said I'd still be able to see my favourite attendant and her friend in action - making the assumption that I was some spa addict fanboy.

He led me into a narrow hallway that ran behind all of the rooms in the spa. Each room had a small peephole. He told me to head down to #5 and not to make a sound or he'd throw me out.

Making my way down the hall, I could hear the sounds of the spa that brought back a flood of memories from my time in college. The creaking of the massage tables as bodies adjusted themselves, the cap being closed on a bottle of lubricant, the sound of a condom being opened, and the moaning - both fake and authentic.

When I reached #5, my hands were shaking nonstop, my stomach was turning, and I was not prepared for what I would see on the other side.